You look like a fucking bat, you old slutI really loathe vulgarity, so commonYour disgraceful cellulitusYou’ll never be the same againFucking stereotypeYou take just like a cuntCunt fucks just like a cuntYou ache just like a cuntYou break just like a cuntA cunt like youFucking stereotypeListen to the sound of being aliveLook at yourself, cuntWrap upPull yourself togetherYou’re a fucking messYou’re a fucking disgraceCuntAnd still you’re saying nothing happened?While that dog looks at youHe’s glancing at that snatch of wizening cleavageWizening old titAttractionYou must be fucking joking, cuntAnd as for those ridicolous shoesAlways too much perfumeAlways too much plasterYes, that dog looks at youIn fascinated repulsionEven his disgusting half-erection is disgustedBecause nothing in the world could possibly compareTo holdingHis sweet little daughter’s handCould it?Cunt

These are the things I hold ontoThese are the thingsI use to deceive myselfI line them up in front of meI judge them carefullyThen I throw them all awayI throw them all awayI am a small manI am not a dangerous manI love a childI love a beautiful childI love a childI love a beautiful childI will hold this child in my armsAnd caress his soft headListen to him cryListen to him cryI can kill the childThe beautiful childI will kill the childThe beautiful childThis is my lifeThis is my choiceThis is my damnationThis is my only regretThis is my lifeThis is my lifeThis is my sacrificeThis is my lifeThis is my only regretThat I ever was bornThis is my sacrificeGet out of my head

Hey, knuckle-nicksI'll tell you:It's helpingI'll tell you:You're doing the right thingI can see you're usedAnd I don't know where you've beenBut I do know past failures still haunt youThoughtless slow remarks you later regretIt's hard to own up and take the blameFor being a nervous gibbering wreckSo go on be a careless fucking onlookerSo you can sit and not-think about painI know about gasping attacks and mirror-bloodI know about shitbags and shameI know a fuckload more than you realiseA fuck of a lot more than you thinkI know why you can take a kissBut not a bone-count hugI know you bite your fat banana fingernailsAnd I know why you'd need to shaveI know you're a slow fussy pathetic eaterAnd I know you don't sleep muchBut I'll still tell you:It's helpingAnd I'll still tell you:You're doing the right thing

Question: did you ever hurt yourself to make somebody sorry?How often do you pretend to be sick?You ever wanted something very much but never told anybody about it?Are you such a slug you can't live without a fucking sundae?You ever made a bit too much fuss over your cuts?Yes, the cutting will be quite dramaticIf you get the crisscross slit rightAnd show an exposed piece of boneReady for harvestAnd in a few seconds' time:In a drop of anal red the poisonAnd your totally disgusting diseased unkempt disgusting excuse of a bodyContinues to reactTill mere days after the cuttingThe cancer says well helloIn between fairground muscle twitchesAnd clearly white scaly shitTinkerboy says burnt it outThe little cunt doesn't know what the fuck he's talking aboutAnd just weeks after the cuttingYou really don't knowHow well can you imagineHow soon cheap tears are forgottenBecause there's no wasted kleenex or sympathyNobody would give a fucking tossFor a quasi-glamour of your symptomsFor your Russell’s signAnd for your atrocious sleepless lucidityBecause what if they were provoked?It's prefectness and it's all thereNo more pointless trawling through self-helped books for triggering examplesNo more daytime trash or drunken wisdomAt first it seems not to be workingTil you get that imitation of dangerThat means you can no longer convince yourself it's not workingMore and more and more and moreSo right now would be a good time for blackmailWho have you ever tried to make guilty?Have you ever told on anyone?What somebody has told you not to tellMy question: I said have you ever told on anyone?Yet I'll tell you:It's helpingAnd I'll tell you:You're doing the right thing

More and more you wonder if anyone really gives a fuckDo you sometimes feel that:You talk too muchYou don't listen enoughDo you admit to letting others push you around?Who's pushing you around now?Who's hitting on you now?Who's the pervert hitting on you now, kuckle-nicks?Has he successfully perverted an ethic?Has he destroyed a doll body?I'll show you what's it like not to have handsAnd I'll show you how to hold on tightI'll show you how to piss on your own bedclothesAnd sit in a closetYou'll learn to sweat while unconsciousAnd I'll show you the electric stickYou'll learn about the kitty-cutBefore the privilege of seeing your own bloodI'll let you suck brown-brown and clairilSo you know how papa's so braveI'll show you the wide-awake nightmareAnd now you can buy some fucking fearSo new question: can you:Spot a person who's like me?Can you:Imagine a difference between their body and yours?Can you:Imagine a person who looks like me?Could you:Spot a person who looks unlike you?Can you:Spot a person who's how you want to be?Can you:Imagine a person who you'd never want to be?

Transferring people is a fucking degrading thing to do to themAnd one day the you'll understand thatOne day the you'll understand that:Cut hands has the solutionWe'll feed you to every hungry birdWe'll feed you to every starving animalAnd we'll let them eat fat till they're fullAnd will let them drink blood till they're drunkAs I tell you:It's helpingWhile I tell you:You're doing the right thing

Your body is private.Your mind is sacred.You should be violated.You should be violated.You should raped.You should be... Raped.I need you.I need you.I want them to do this to you.I want them to do this to you.Bastard.

Someone less privileged then you should use you.Someone weaker then you should rape you.You should be violated.You should be violated.You should be raped.You should be raped.You should be raped.You should be raped.Don't fight back.Don't fight back.I need you.Suck it.Suck it.I want them to do this to you.Bastard.I want them to do this to you.Bastard.Tear it down.Tear it down.Burn it.Burn it.Burn it.Burn it.Burn it.Burn it.Burn it.Break it.Break it.(En massa "Suck it" på slutet.)

I walk the depth of consciousspreading infinitelyWhen I come to you leaning nothingbut the heartbeatPaved blue reflectsthe eternal possibilityAnd connects the words you and I speak

Remind of the form of melancholydrooping down heavilyA mind that expected to be,it will soon be vanished with a noiseBack to the covered lights,the voice starts to run, hoping to return

White waves stop silentlyA singing voice of clouds leaps on the surfaceLetters of promise in the mad sunlightThe sky shines in a whispering rain.

Stare at the fragments of thoughtspread at the feetTears of hope for the hopless ones.Who owns the stars?Last part of the sorrowwill someday be returned to us andthe story goes on

Whole lot of smile to the eyesreflecting in the shadowThe countless gaze to the exit has lined upmy dearest sceneryAn illusion bringsthe white moment and the palm of a handEverything exists in a stepThe bell of arrival for the overflowing water

A bridge over the sky and the noise in the duskGo beyond the night and the time of silence comesPut out the lamplight and go along the moonlightGive unfinished happiness to an innocent smile